Run With Me
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: Sequel to “Taken.” Jackson knows too much, and his life is soon to be forfeit. The master assassin was never known to have any weaknesses... until they found his woman and his little girl. LisaJackson. Chapter 4 Up!
1. The Deal

**Chapter One: The Deal**

Invitations had gone out rather quickly. All of her living relatives-- Mom, Dad, Aunt Marianne, Uncle Harry and their three terrors-- along with a few close friends, such as Cynthia and her new beau, were all invited without a thought. She wondered minutely if Jackson would want to invite anyone, then quickly erased the thought from her mind. Even if he had any relatives, she was quite sure that they didn't know he existed anymore. Lisa signed the bottom of the invitation card with the RSVP just as Vivian began fussing in the highchair beside her.

"Shh, fussy-gums," Lisa said as she doled a spoonful of lukewarm oatmeal into the child's mouth. Vivian devoured the bite and giggled happily. The baby's black hair was longer now, growing at a steady rate. Today Lisa had pulled it into a ponytail topped with a red bow. "Do you think your Daddy will want to bring any of his shady friends to your birthday, Vivi?" The girl burbled, totally unaware of the noises coming from her mother's mouth. "I didn't think so," Lisa murmured, sealing the envelope and addressing it.

She pushed herself up from the table centered in the kitchen to head for the mailbox. As she passed the entry to the living room, she called over the sound of rustling pages.

"Jackson, please sit with Vivian while I mail these."

There was a grunt from the other room-- his sound of unwilling compliance. He set down his book and climbed from his armchair to vault into the kitchen. Lisa smiled to herself as she heard Jackson place a kiss on his daughter's head before she closed the door to her apartment.

She'd managed to domesticate him as much as she possibly could. He stayed for two, maybe three days at a time before disappearing during the night. But he stayed, and that was what counted to her. Vivian was the anchor that kept him in Lisa's harbor. The woman had hardly seen the softer side of Jackson Rippner, let alone the hints of compassion he was able to show the tiny girl. But his job was as present as ever. Lisa couldn't count how many times she had cleaned a cut, poured rubbing alcohol receiving a sharp hiss of pain. And his poor ear. He had told her the story eventually.

His enigmatic boss had given him orders to seek out the head of a rival syndicate and off him. Jackson was the best qualified and was sent in all haste. Of course the man was dead. But he didn't go down without taking a bit of Jackson with him. Armed thugs had been hiding and assaulted Jackson just after his target hit the ground. Jackson's ear was torn nearly in half by a fast 9mm bullet. He was lucky to get out with his life. The ear had healed, but it had never looked the same. The only marring aspect of his otherwise flawless features.

Lisa slipped the last invitation into the mailbox nailed to the wall just inside the main entrance to the apartment building. From inside her apartment, she could hear a loud clang followed by a low cursing from Jackson. Lisa held back a smile. He tried so hard to be a father to his little girl, but Lisa felt that he wasn't quite cut-out for the job. He wanted to badly to be the father that Vivian needed, but he could never achieve that dream as long as he followed the orders of the inscrutable Mr. Vore.

Oh, of course she had tried to talk him out of every job he told her about. In the dark hours of the morning as they lay together, she would implore him-- "think of the baby, think of yourself, think of me, Jackson"-- but he would always be gone within 24 hours. There was only so far she could pull him into her world before he drew back into his cloak of darkness. He was still Jackson Rippner and she was still Lisa Reisert.

She entered the apartment again to see Jackson angrily tossing the empty oatmeal bowl into Lisa's sink. Vivian's head bore a crown of oatmeal, and she loved it. Lisa took a cloth to her daughter's face as Jackson stalked back into the living room to collect his book.

"I'm leaving," he said from the other room.

That was always the way he told her. Never to her face, always facing some other way or out of her sight completely. Lisa looked up as her entered the kitchen again, wiping some stray flecks of oatmeal from his tie. The book in his hands this week was a collection of poems by Robert Frost that was dog-eared and book marked into oblivion. He worked his fingers past the oatmeal on Vivian's head to tweak her ear in a nearly affectionate way.

"I'll see you when you're one year old," he muttered before heading for Lisa's bedroom. That was the window he used most often to avoid any surveillance cameras in the parking lot. Lisa stood quickly.

"Jackson." It wasn't a question. She demanded his attention. He turned, as he always did before he left. "Everyone's going to be here tomorrow." With a sigh, she approached and rested herself against his chest. "I'm worried."

"What, you didn't backorder the cake?" Sarcasm was his native tongue, it seemed. Lisa spoke, unchanged, into his shirt. He smelled of oatmeal now.

"I'm worried about you."

"There's something new," he said almost scathingly. But his hand was in her hair, fingers teasing her curls sympathetically. She paused. Vivian giggled as the oatmeal dripped onto her chipmunk cheeks.

"Are you sure you want them to see you?" He would have interjected, but she continued quickly. "We could have another celebration, just you, me and Vivi--"

"Leese," he interrupted, putting a finger to her mouth. "One of your relatives rats me out, I find a convenient way to escape from prison again. It won't be the first time, and if it's my last then it's probably because you killed me for pissing off your dad." She breathed unsteadily into his shirt. She was going to cry. Jackson took her chin in his hand and lifted it to look at him. "I hate it when women cry."

"I know," Lisa muttered, steeling herself. "But the last time that you and my father were in the same room he shot you." She placed a finger over the spot the bullet had entered.

"Look," Jackson tried to reason, stepping away from Lisa to clean up Vivian's face. "He already knows that Vivian's my daughter, right? And he didn't run off on a rampage then, so I'm guessing he'll just stew in a corner for a while."

"He shot you, Jackson."

"I can't quite remember--" He was heading for the window again. "--was that before or after he learned that I fathered his one and only grandchild?" He stuck his head out the window to check for clearance, then levered himself out. Once his feet touched the grass outside (for Lisa's apartment was on the first floor) he stuck his head back inside. "I'll see you tomorrow." And he was gone.

Lisa got Vivian out of the clothes that were covered in breakfast and began to draw a bath for her daughter.

* * *

"You don't have the balls," Jackson said daringly, staring across the dim room at his superior Dieter Vore. He was an older man, perhaps in his mid-50's. But it was impossible to tell anymore. He had changed himself so many times that no one who worked for him could remember how he had looked before he got into the business. At the moment, Vore had a long, hawkish nose, broken several times, and heavy-set German eyebrows flecked with white. His hair was cut short, gray fringing his bulging temples and cheekbones so high and so hollow they cast long shadows across his face. He was dressed in an expensive Italian suit, a long cigarette between his mustachioed lips.

"I assure you, Rippner, that I do have the balls." The voice was thick, dark as velvet but not as comforting by far. This was the voice for intimidation, not sweet-talking. There was no accent despite his heavy German features. Jackson kept his eyes at the bodyguards at all times, flicking them back to Vore intermittently.

"I'm the best Goddamned man you have!" Jackson lost himself, face flushed red in the moment. A long draw on the cigarette from Vore, and Jackson knew what to expect. But he had never been on the receiving end before.

"No, Rippner. You _used_ to be the best man I had. But you slipped up on the Keefe assassination and you've slid constantly down from there." Another long draw and it came. "Now you're dead."

The first attacked was from his right. Jackson grabbed the oncoming wrist and twisted it against the grain, cracking it instantly. The next was from the left and unavoidable. The bodyguard tackled Jackson to the floor, fist meeting fleshy face until Jackson brought his knee into the man's groin, causing him to roll sideways off of Jackson in pain. The bodyguard with the broken wrist was back up, swing a knife with his off-hand. Jackson dodged animatedly, almost enjoying it despite the taste of blood in his mouth. He caught the hand with the knife only to be caught from behind by another knife-wielder-- a third bodyguard that he had missed in his initial count.

The knife slashed across his back, spilling blood, but not as much as the attacked had hoped on. Jackson turned on him and gave a swift head-butt to the large fore headed man. He dropped by the other bodyguard moaning on the ground. His one hand still wrapped around the wrist of the first knife-holder; he twisted the wrist and tripped the man, the knife flying from his hand and into Jackson's. With a cocky flourish, Jackson turned to face Vore, all three of his men lying at Jackson's feet.

"Good, but, as always, short of expectations," Vore rumbled simply. Jackson gave a low growl.

"Just a lab rat here for your amusement," he said behind clenched teeth. Vore rose from his padded chair and dumped his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk.

"Why didn't you kill them?" Vore asked simply. Jackson glanced down at the wounded men at his feet.

"I was going to kill you first," he said plainly with a light air, raised eyebrows and a hint of a smirk.

"I do think you'll change your mind when you've listened to what I have to say, Rippner." Vore began to walk around his desk, taking his time and adjusting the knick-knacks on the desk. His fingers stopped on a revolver. Jackson noticed all of this.

"Oh? Going to offer me my job back?" The infliction in the younger man's voice indicated that he could have cared less about working for Mr. Vore at this point.

"No, no, of course not." The revolver was in his hand suddenly, and he made a great deal over inspecting how many bullets were in their chambers. "You're a little too mindful and volatile for my organization now. When you were young and stupid, it was easier to control you." He snapped the revolver shut, glaring at Jackson. "Now you're just getting on my nerves."

"I have a tendency to do that," Jackson spat. His hand was still clutched around the grip of his assailant's knife.

"I know about the woman, Rippner." It was a threat, a deep one that reverberated in Jackson's chest. He felt the fear palpitating inside of him with those words, but with a practiced ease he concealed his emotions.

"Woman? If you're talking about that Dunthorpe woman from January, that little job was taken care of--"

"That Reisert woman," Vore continued as if Jackson hadn't interrupted him. "The one that started all of this trouble for you, yes?" He looked almost longingly at the revolver before his steely eyes met Jackson's again. "And the little girl."

Jackson couldn't stop the words that came from his lips at the sudden fright that gripped his chest.

"You _bastard_!" His entire body was rigid. "You lay one _fucking_ hand--"

"Mr. Rippner," Vore said loudly, although Jackson was sure that the man hadn't even raised his voice. "My men-- hell, _your_ men-- are converging on her apartment. You know how I enjoy a good chase. If you can keep them from the scope of my gun for three days, you'll be the only one who dies." Then he smiled-- a devil's smile, full of yellow-stained teeth under the white-flecked mustache. "I find them-- any one of my men finds them-- and they die, Rippner. Then you. Only then."

Jackson was frozen to his spot, scenario after bloody scenario running blindly through his mind. The knife had long-since dropped from his shaking hand. He stared straight forward, empty, frightened, a Jackson Rippner that Vore had never witnessed. The older man glared at his previous subordinate.

"Do you think I'm kidding, Rippner!"

Jackson was already running down the hall at his top speed, fear like lead in his heart.

* * *

AN: TAHDAH! Chapter one of the new story is up! I came up with the plot for this story as I was goin to bed the other night, so if it's a little weak it's because I was half-asleep. But it'll get better as I go along. Ooh, and some Action!Jackson... woot. Oh, and as for the bad f-bomb I dropped here: I'll only use it that once or maybe one more time. Jackson only uses it when he's reeeally pissed and I feel that the occasion called for it. The next chapter will be much fun, methinks. Please, tell me what y'all think of this new story and the whole idea. If anything seems off, just tell me and I'll fix it, promise. Much love to returning fans and new readers! Thanks for reaing and I hope you have a lovely day! 


	2. The Party

**Chapter Two: The Party**

The party had started without him. It was sometimes weeks before Lisa would hear from Jackson, and she felt that his task was keeping him later than expected. She knew that he would come sooner or later. And she knew that keeping Jackson and her father apart longer was probably a good thing. Despite what Jackson had said, she knew that the two men in the same room could end in disaster.

Her father had been the first to arrive. He had overdone himself: four huge boxes for a one-year-old. His excuse was that Vivian was his first grandchild and deserved to be spoiled. Aunt Marianne and Uncle Harry were the next to arrive. They were from out of state-- Atlanta, Georgia to be exact. The drive hadn't been pleasant with the triplet boys in the backseat the entire ride, but they had made it and were going to make a vacation of it. The overweight Aunt Marianne told Lisa that after a rest at the Lux Atlantic, they were off to the beach. Neurotic Uncle Harry had packed enough sunscreen to bathe all five of them. John, George and Harry Jr. made their immediate way to the snacks once they were through the door.

"Oh, Lisa-baby," Marianne said as she grabbed her niece in a tight embrace, "you shoulda told us sooner you had a little darlin'! We'd-a come down sooner!" Lisa grinned as she moved on to hug her Uncle Harry. "Where is the little thing?" Marianne asked, peering around Lisa's small apartment. Lisa brushed her hair behind her ears.

"Dad's got her in the living room," she answered. the Triplets lugged the two presents from the family into the kitchen, where her father's already stood like monuments.

Cynthia and her new boyfriend Zack were the next guests five minutes after the party of five entered the apartment. Cynthia had thoughtfully brought a present for Vivian and a nice wine bottle for the adults. As Lisa poured the wine into glasses for Cynthia, her father and herself she smiled, thinking of Jackson's reaction to the taste of wine in his mouth. He'd always hated it. She was introduced to Zack, who was very unlike most of Cynthia's boyfriends that she'd met. He was shy, and almost as short as she was. He also hated wine.

Almost another half-an-hour passed, and there was no knock on the door to indicate that Lisa's mother was coming. She got a call three minutes later that informed her that her mother couldn't come. _Her loss_, Lisa decided, and the party began.

Vivian was brought into the kitchen, dressed in her finest overalls. A blue bow was in her hair today. Joe Reisert placed the girl in her highchair, then mysteriously disappeared into the living room again. He emerged with a great, white birthday cake, more than enough to feed the entire room. They lit the candles and turned off the lights.

"_Happy Birthday to you--_"

They didn't hear the footsteps softly padding up the hallway. Three pairs of them.

"_Happy Birthday to you--_"

One of them motioned for another to come to the front. He pulled a key from an inside pocket.

"_Happy Birthday dear Vivian--_"

The man with the key stepped forward, pressing it into the keyhole to Lisa's apartment without a noise.

"_Happy Birthday to--_"

The door swung open silently just as a familiar dark-haired man jumped through the open kitchen window.

"Jackson!" Lisa cried in surprise.

He wasn't listening. His dead, cold eyes were fixed on the door to her apartment. He reached under his blazer to pull out a thin black gun.

"Get her down!" Jackson said, his head snapping to Lisa. The frightened girl took one look at the three armed men standing in her doorway before she grabbed Vivian and dove under the table.

Gunshots erupted like a thunderstorm. The cake was blown away, white frosting propelled in a snowdrift across her walls. The Triplets screamed, and they disappeared into Lisa's room. Lisa watched as Jackson's arm whipped out of his blazer, the gun shining in the morning sun and each and every bullet fired out of its barrel with God-like precision. The bullets from the opposing guns seemed to fire around him almost on purpose. The wall behind him was being slowly torn apart by gunfire. Pots and pans that had been hung on the wall clattered noisily to the floor. Jackson fired three times, once for each man at the door. They fell to the ground dead, a bullet to the heart each. The silence after was almost as deafening as the gunshots had been before.

And as Jackson stood there, gun smoking and sun to his back, he looked like an epic figure, immortal and beautiful, as dangerous as he was striking. He turned his back slowly to the dead men, nonchalant and uncaring. Lisa had never seen him in such a light.

"Lisa," Jackson said, suddenly kneeling beside her. The table had been knocked askew by the gunfight. He ran his hand over her cheek, and she stared into his eyes blankly, like a deer in the proverbial headlights. "Lisa!" He said again, both hands on her face now. She blinked rapidly, suddenly aware that Vivian was crying.

"Oh, God--" Lisa's tears began, and she quickly inspected her daughter for any harm. Jackson pulled her to her feet as he looked over Vivian just as Lisa did. "What...?" Lisa asked frantically. Her hands were shaking again. They hadn't done that for almost a year.

"I must have done something to piss off that idiot Vore," Jackson said absently as he tucked Vivian's hair behind her ear. "Is she all right?"

Lisa didn't answer. She simply fell into Jackson's open arms and cried. He was surprised at first, almost frightened. Then, slowly, he pulled her closer and held Vivian between them. Her breath was jerky, but he held her tightly. Vivian had stopped her crying and held herself close to her father. He ran his long fingers through Lisa's hair calmingly but said nothing. He didn't know what to say.

"What the hell--!"

Both of the parents' head whipped the direction of Lisa's bedroom. Aunt Marianne was standing, covered in cake, with her arms around her three boys. Her eyes were wide and frightened. The boys, for once, were absolutely silent.

"_This_ is the father! This madman!" Uncle Harry was peeking out from behind his wife, shaking and scared witless. Jackson turned to Lisa again.

"Uncle Harry?" He asked. Lisa, still shaking, nodded. Jackson turned to face Uncle Harry again. "Look, _Uncle Harry_, make yourself useful and call the police. We don't want those bodies in the doorway all day."

It wasn't another moment before the entire family had locked themselves in Lisa's bedroom. Lisa could hear Cynthia crying in the living room, and Zack's voice trying to comfort her. She was pulled back toward Jackson as his hand moved softly from her brow to her cheek, bright blue eyes inspecting her face.

"Are you all right?" He asked. It was a tone he had never taken with her. A quiet, tender voice. One could almost say loving. Lisa took in a shuddering breath and held Vivian closer to her chest.

"I think so," she responded, unsure of what to make of him.

Jackson sighed in relief, however unwilling to relinquish Lisa from his grip, making sure that she was still tangible beside him. A movement to their right distracted them again.

"We meet again," Joe Reisert said from the other side of the kitchen. He looked unharmed aside from a lump on the head where a falling skillet had struck him. His eyes were close and deadly on Jackson. The latter loosed his grip on Lisa, ready for anything. He remembered the last time he met Lisa's father. It hadn't gone quite according to his plan. He had a bullet wound in the chest to prove it.

"Hello," Jackson said with a playful air. Almost as an afterthought, he added: "Dad."

"Don't pull that wishy-washy shit with me, boy," Joe Reisert began, not giving Jackson an inch. "You should be locked up in prison, rotting in some God-forsaken hell-hole for what you tried to do to my little girl."

"I guess I don't get any Brownie Points for giving Lisa the chance to experience the miracle of childbirth?" Jackson asked. Lisa could have punched him on his bad shoulder for being such an ass.

"Don't avoid me," her father growled. People had begun to file toward Lisa's apartment, hearing the gunshots. "I don't like you, and you don't like me. Neither of us will probably get over that."

"Look, _Dad_," Jackson said as he began backing toward the kitchen window, "you're probably right. And I really don't have the time to explain everything that's going on. But from what you've just seen, we aren't exactly safe here. Two choices for you: stay here or come with me. Just a heads-up-- they're not all that concerned about you."

"What--?" Joe Reisert's face showed the confusion that stewed in his mind. Jackson suddenly lost all of his cool control.

"I pissed off my old boss, and as a way of sticking it where it _really_ hurts, he wants to kill Lisa and Vivian," he said with an icy tone chillier than his eyes. "Make any more sense, _Dad_?"

The tension between the two men, both leviathans in their own way, could have rent the apartment in twain. It was Lisa's father that conceded.

"Get the hell outta here," he said in a low voice. Jackson didn't need any more provocation.

"Dad--" Lisa started, pulled by the wrist as Jackson headed for the window.

"If anything happens to her," her father raised his voice tremulously. Jackson whipped his head back as he climbed out the window.

"Anything happens to her and I'm next, so don't spend the next three nights plotting extravagant revenge." He took Vivian as he helped Lisa out the window. She glanced back once at her ruined apartment.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, tears in her eyes and voice.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he returned, his own voice breaking.

She turned away from the window, following Jackson across the well-trimmed lawn. The sound of sirens was growing in the distance. Jackson clutched Vivian protectively against his chest, icy eyes darting to and fro in search of danger. He didn't need Lisa to tell him where she had parked her car. They came up alongside it as casually as they could with three dead bodies sitting just inside the apartment building.

"Leese," he muttered beneath his breath, "how the hell do you work this thing?" He was trying desperately to buckle Vivian in her car seat, and she was giggling happily at his frantic attempts. Lisa moved Jackson's shaking hands from the buckle and quickly connected the straps of the small baby chair. He ran an anxious hand through his hair-- longer than it had been in months-- as he searched the parking lot for danger.

"I'll drive," he said lowly, sticking his hand toward Lisa. "Keys?"

She placed them in his hand then dove into the passenger seat. He sat down behind the wheel quickly and turned the key in the ignition. The car came to life, purring softly. The oil needed to be changed in another 400 miles. The gas tank was half empty.

"Where are we going to go?" Lisa asked worriedly, looking back at the oblivious child in the backseat. When Jackson didn't whip out an immediate answer, she glanced over at him. He was slumped over the steering wheel, hand nervous at his brow. "Jackson?"

"I don't _know_," he shot off, almost angrily. He gave a long, low breath, and was suddenly the Jackson she had come to know while on the red eye-- calm, collected and in control. "We can't go to any of my safe houses, ironically." He looked over his shoulder, shifted the car into reverse and backed out of Lisa's parking space. "I have an idea, but if you have any sudden inspiration, please don't hesitate to tell me."

He shifted back into drive and pulled out of the parking lot as nonchalantly as possible. It was no less than a minute before the police and the ambulance arrived.

* * *

AN: Action! More action! I think there's gonna be more action in this than in Taken... by a long shot. I hope that I got Lisa's dad right, because he wasn't in much of the film, and he was either asking Lisa if she was all right or shooting Jackson whenever he was on screen. So yeah. And is it just me, or is the image of Jackson trying to figure out a baby car seat hilarious? Prolly just me. ANYWAY! Shout-outs!

**Dai Katana:** Thanks much for the review! When I wrote about Vore, I had a distinct picture in my head and I tried to convey that into the writing. I'm glad it helped you see him, too. Heheh, I gotta admit that protective!Jackson is pretty awesome. I am gonna have so much fun with this story. Thanks much and have some e-spahetti!

**Darkbutterfly376:** Gee, I had no idea that my fic was that popular to attract a reader whose native language isn't English. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing-- it made my day! I'm glad you like my characterization of Jackson. I see him differently than most writers do, I think. But oh well. Thanks again and you're welcome to all the e-spaghetti you want!

**MarieNymph:** I'm glad I was able to snare you off of the success of Taken -bwahaha- As for loyal!Jackson, I think there's no other way he would act. I can just see him being so protective of his daughter-- partially because of what happened to his sister. Also, it's insane fun to write. Happy reading, and have some e-spaghetti!

**SpadesJade:** Oh man... Now that you said that thing about Lisa's dad I'm more worried that I didn't get him right in this chapter. Argh... The pains of writing lesser characters. Oh well. I'm happy that you enjoyed Taken and are now thouroughly engrossed in this one (I've trapped another one!) -- I mean, what? Heheh. Enjoy the e-spaghetti, friend!

**Ashley:** Woah! -hands you some Vicodin- Calm down, my good friend. I assure you that everyone makes it through the next chapter. After that, I make no promises. -BWAHAHA!- Oh, now I'll have you up for days. You can't stay up too much: Lost is tonight! Ahem, anyways, I'm glad I was able to freak you out (is that a good thing?) and I hope the next chapters will continue to be to your liking. Happy reading and e-spaghetti for you! Much love!

As for everyone who didn't get a shout-out, I still love all of you. I want to thank everyone for their support so far, and I hope I can manage to hold on to my few fans. HAPPY READING AND GOODNIGHT!


	3. The Exchange

**Chapter Three: The Exchange**

Lisa watched as the dark clouds seized the sky, and as their victory cry they poured rain onto the land below. It ran in rivulets down the windshield of her car. Vivian had fallen asleep in the backseat, her tiny head lolling to one side and little chubby hands resting on the small stuffed giraffe that Jackson had brought home one night. It had always been her favorite toy. Lisa didn't even know if Jackson remembered getting it for her. But if Lisa put her in her crib without that stupid giraffe she would cry to wake every neighbor. All for the giraffe her father gave to her one night, his hands still holding the red tint of blood.

She took her time in glancing over at him. The man who had threatened to kill her and her father, the man with whom she shared the love of the child asleep in the backseat. His cold, ice-blue eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his mind working ceaselessly behind the windows of his eyes. She fancied that she could almost see his very thoughts, every scenario played out full in his mind. She wanted to know what he hid behind those eyelids when he turned his back to her in the dark of night, what things lay hidden in his deepest, darkest layer. His eyes flicked to hers for only a moment, and she saw a glimpse, a flash, of something.

Something. Something dark and primal, long repressed and finally released.

He returned his eyes to the road. The windshield wipers flicked back and forth monotonously, keeping a steady, uninterrupted rhythm. Swish-swish, swish-swish as Lisa broke her gaze from Jackson's profile. The rain drummed-- no, purred-- on the roof.

"We can't stay in Florida," Jackson said, tearing the fragile beat of the wipers and rain with his low voice. Lisa looked up, nonplussed.

"Are they _that_ dangerous that we have to leave the state?"

"They're probably following us right now," he answered, quick eyes darting to the rear-view mirror. "Five cars behind us. A green minivan. Out-of-state plates: I can't tell from here, but they might be Minnesota. It's followed us for two hours now." The rain was slowly pattering to a halt.

"We're heading north," Lisa answered, checking the glove-compartment atlas. "And I'm _pretty_ sure that Minnesota is also north. Maybe," she added with a hint of exasperation, "they're just stuck on the same miserable stretch of freeway that we are."

"It's wonderful to see the display of confidence you show in my abilities, Leese," Jackson cracked, craning his neck to look at the minivan. "I've been working for the same man for fifteen years. I think I know his methods a little better than you do." Jackson merged onto the nearest exit ramp. Lisa watched for the green minivan. Sure enough, five cars later, said vehicle pulled onto the exit ramp after Jackson.

"Fifteen years?" Lisa asked, turning again to him. She had never pulled the answer out of him as to exactly how old he was-- always an enigma-- but he couldn't be over 30. "Jackson--"

"Shh," he hissed sharply. Then, in a minute voice: "Your car is bugged."

Lisa stared, wide-eyed, back at her daughter. Still sleeping, tiny chest rising and falling peacefully. She glared back at Jackson.

"Why?" she asked pitifully.

"Why is your car bugged?" He asked casually, his eyes resting calmly on hers. "Or something else? It's usually something else with you, Lisa."

"Why," she said again, nearly to the verge of tears. "'Why' everything, Jackson! _Why_ did you pick me? _Why_ did I sleep with you? _Why_ did you come back? _Why_ should I care? Why _do_ I care!" She stopped herself, hands at her mouth, biting back anything else that wanted to escape her. She didn't know why the fact her car was bugged set her off. Something so nearly insignificant had snapped that vital string within her.

Jackson said nothing. He allowed her to have her silence. He pulled the car onto a nondescript back road, perhaps hoping to warn the minivan off. It persisted. Jackson gave a low huff, then spotted a small roadside stand selling oranges. He pulled over.

"Jackson," Lisa started, voice thin. He cut her off with a movement of his hand. The woman at the orange stand looked ecstatic and began to fuss with her hair. Jackson pulled Lisa's face close to his and whispered close into her ear.

"Fast and quiet as you can, get Vivian out of her seat. We're changing cars." He opened the car door and stepped into the sun. He shielded his eyes minutely, nodded urgently to Lisa, then approached the orange stand. Lisa's quick and tremulous hands began working at the catch on Vivian's baby seat.

The minivan was slowing.

"Good morning," Jackson prompted the woman at the orange stand. "How fresh are these?" He asked, gesturing toward the nearest box of oranges. The woman, far older than Jackson, grinned helplessly.

"Fresh picked this morning, handsome."

There was time for Lisa to see an almost unperceivable shudder in Jackson's movements. The minivan pulled up behind them just as Lisa pulled her sleeping baby from her seat. The toy giraffe plummeted to the floor. The girl's eyes, so much like her father's, shot open at the sudden vacancy of her arms. And she began to cry.

Jackson spun toward the minivan as the side doors flew open on the new vehicle. They were Minnesota plates. Lisa scrambled to fish Vivian's giraffe from the floor, fingers barely brushing its cloth hooves. Vivian wailed.

A quaint Minnesota family was quite the opposite of what barreled out of the green minivan. Five men and a woman, all with long semi-automatic guns climbed out of the car and began firing.

Jackson had been hoping to distract their fire. He hadn't. Bullets rained through Lisa's car like they might through butter. She screamed and pulled her child with her down to the floor, covering the girl's delicate head to protect her. The orange stand woman shrieked and dove behind her stand. Jackson, terror etched on his features, opened fire at once on the shooters. He was out of bullets before two had fallen.

Their gunfire was suddenly switched to Jackson's direction. He fell to the ground and quickly situated himself behind the orange stand, encountering the older woman as he quickly reloaded his gun.

"I'll be out of you hair in a second," he assured her. He popped his head above the orange stand and fired twice into the group of people. He was answered with a chorus of gunshots. He had narrowed the six down to four.

What he heard next was something he could never had expected.

The signature sound of Lisa's car door opening and closing.

Vivian was crying.

"LISA!" Jackson cried as he stood to his full height. He didn't have to worry about the shooters. Their focus was switched again to the running form of Lisa as she held her child close against her chest, running, running as fast as she could away from the scene. The four opened fire.

The last thing _they_ expected was for Jackson to ram into them from behind, knocking three to the ground, followed by a deadly close-range bullet to the face for the those that lay at his feet. He wasn't quick enough to stop the butt of the remaining gunman's weapon from crashing against his temple. He lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. But one hand had latched around the gunman's collar and he was dragged down with him.

The orange stand woman cracked that last gunman, prostrate on the ground, with her largest orange crate. Blood spilled from the wound across her precious fresh oranges. She stood, tears in her eyes, staring at the half-conscious Jackson laying among the six dead gunmen.

Lisa had stopped running when the guns had ceased.

She approached the grisly scene slowly, the weeping baby clutching to her chest. The orange stand woman had resigned herself to crying openly behind her orange stand. Lisa held a hand to her mouth at the sight of the carnage, making sure that her daughter did not turn her head. Warily, Jackson pulled himself to his feet, staring uneasily at his surroundings. Then he saw Lisa before him. Emotions ran through his face as if on a roulette wheel.

"Lisa," he said quietly. Then the rage built on his face. "Lisa!" He grabbed her fiercely by the shoulders and shook her painfully. "_Lisa_! What the _hell_ did you think you could accomplish! Why'd you leave the car! LISA!" He roared when she wouldn't answer. Silent tears were coursing down her face, but she wouldn't yield any sob to him as he shook her. He stared death with his bright, icy eyes.

He grabbed her in a violent, almost painful embrace.

"Don't-" was all he said, face against her hair, breathing irregular. Still Vivian bawled. Jackson retreated quickly from Lisa, eyes locked in a silent battle with hers. Almost reluctantly, he left her, stalked with long strides to the gun-shot vehicle and reached inside, fingers touching the blue-carpeted interior. His hand emerged clutching the stuffed giraffe.

"Don't lose it," he said and he pressed it into Lisa's free hand. "It's her favorite."

He approached the green minivan and leapt into the driver's seat. Lisa remained for a long moment, and handed the giraffe to Vivian. The child slowly ended her wailing as she recognized the toy in her hands. The choking sobs of the orange stand woman echoed in the empty street. Lisa slowly approached her.

"Thank you," she said to the woman, holding her baby close to her. The woman glanced up, slightly gray hair sticking from her head in every direction. She couldn't even form a response, staring at the ruined oranges and the six dead shooters before her stand.

"The tall one with the hat has the keys, Leese," Jackson said from the driver's seat of the minivan. Lisa bent down and rummaged through the dead man's pockets, holding the bile from rising up her throat. It took only seconds to hand the keys and the baby to Jackson while Lisa transferred the car seat to the shining green minivan.

Jackson set the child in the seat while Lisa mechanically strapped her in. The girl hugged the stuffed giraffe to her chest. Her father reached up to the ceiling, pressing his fingers against the foam insulation there. Having found what he was searching for, he reached into his blazer and pulled out a long knife. One short stab, and a small electrical wire had been severed.

"All right," he prompted, gesturing to the passenger seat. Lisa looked warily back at the dead gunmen before climbing into the seat and shutting the door against the world. "Don't worry about surveillance. I took out the microphone system back there above Vivi's seat. We'll change cars again sometime soon, but we'll take this one as far as it'll take us." He started the car, then practically did a double-take to stare at Lisa's melancholy features. "Leese?"

"Why do you suddenly care?" Lisa asked without looking up.

"It's not--" She didn't let him finish.

"An assassin doesn't get tied down, Jackson. He doesn't raise a family or feel compassion. You wouldn't have killed those men before the red eye. You would've killed me, killed Vivian-- you didn't know didn't care... Why do you suddenly care?" She looked up this time, eyes to melt the iron wills of men.

Jackson killed the engine.

"That red eye flight was my first screw-up, Leese. Fifteen years and I never saw one mistake or one foul-up. I get another mission-- high-level assassination of some government big-wig. What did I care? All I had to do was find out everything I could about _you_." He stared her down, the battle between their gazes sending sparks. "I followed you wherever you went. I learned your favorite drink, your favorite breakfast-- when you got up in the mornings, when you stayed up late at night to eat ice cream in your nightshirt to watch old scary movies. I learned about you by watching you and studying everything I thought there was to know about you. But I didn't know everything, Leese. Not by a long shot."

She waited for him to continue. He fired up the engine of the new green minivan with Minnesota plates.

"You were smarter than you let on-- clever smarts, not book smarts. You couldn't fight your way out of an algebra problem. But writing on the mirror, stabbing me with that pen..." He ran his hand almost unknowingly across the scar on his neck. "I knew that I had to learn more about you. I'd missed something in my first run-through. I'd missed the way you walk with that proud 'I'm-a-woman, get-used-to-it' look. I'd missed the way your lips turn up at the corners when you're trying to be cute." He was searching her now with his eyes. "I came back for more because you made me think, Lisa. And I hadn't _thought_ in a long time."

He shifted the minivan into drive and pulled off of the back road and onto the freeway once again.

* * *

AN: Arr! Took me long enough. It took me a while to think of Jackson's monologue there at the end. I wanted it to sound plausible, like something he'd really take the time to say. And as for the stuffed giraffe... It kinda represents this toy puppy I have I still won't let go of. It represents all of the toys we all never wanna give up! Ahh, great stuff. Feedback is greatly appriciated. Oh, and as for those who remembered Jackson wasn't a ood shot- oops! I fixed it in this chapter (hopefully) so thanks for pointing it out! SHOUT-OUT TIME!

**steph88NYC:** Oh! I'm sorry you've been having such a terrible time of it, and I'm honoured that you say my fic saved your life. I am a miracle worker! Just kidding. Thanks mucho for the praise! Don't worry, I love you too. Also, on a totally urelated note, how was Harry Potter? I've got midnight tickets, but you're even luckier than I! Thanks much and have some e-chocolate frogs!

**SpadesJade:** I hope this action sequence was better planned out with the "Jackson's-a-bad-shot" thing. I hoped to pull it off for you. Please tell me anything else I need to fix, friend, for I know it can't all be good. I'm glad you take the time to give pointers as well as praise. Thanks much for your review, and you may have an e-chocolate frog if you wish!

**Ashley:** Bwahaha. You still do not know where they are going! Minnesota perhaps? Who knows? The Shadow Knows! ahem... anyway... Thanks for your awesome review! I look forward to them always -grin- I'm glad I'm able to make you crack up. I personally enjoy writing AwkwardDad!Jackson because it's just so adorable. The action was maybe too much in this chappie, but I hope it all works out in the end. Gracias, and have an e-chocolate frog-- you deserve it! PS- I'm TheShoelessOne because I never wear shoes in the summer (I'm a Hobbit!) and my friends gave me the nickename. PSS- Thanks for the Conditional stuff! I'm sure it'll be great!

**Dai Katana:** It's true. Brian Cox always plays one character- Brian Cox. But he's so awesome that we can overlook this little insight. And yes, indeed, Jackson is HOTT with two T's. You are very welcome for the shout-out and I only hope I can give more. Happy reading, and happy e-chocolate frog-ing!

Hmm... Shout-outs were smaller this time... But! To anyone who didn't get a shout-out- I still love you! I shower love upon each and every one of my reviewers! May your road be paved with sausages! Happy reading and many happy returns!


	4. The Plane

**Chapter Four: The Plane**

The minivan was bedecked with surveillance equipment that was mostly far beyond Lisa's comprehension. Programming her VCR was a triumph, so the deciphering of the dials, switches and screens was better left for someone more acquainted with the job. She did, however, see one speaker on the dash labeled with the name "Reisert", along with a few others with the names "Robertson," "Weis," and "Coltraine." She was calmed slightly by the fact that she wasn't the only one with a bugged car these jerks had been following. Jackson followed her gaze, taking his eyes from the back road they were on.

"You can switch those off," he said quietly. Lisa glanced up. "There's a button beneath the speaker--" Lisa cut him off by pressing the remaining three buttons. Jackson stared at her profile for a moment more before turning away with a sharp, annoyed breath.

"I have to feed Vivi," Lisa said a moment or more later. Jackson didn't look back from the road.

"Well," he said at last, "feed her." Lisa stared him down.

"She's one-year-old, Jackson. She needs _food_ now." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And with my apartment being gunned down, I didn't have much time to grab anything for her." Jackson cracked his neck.

"Fine," he said, pulling suddenly and violently from the back road onto a larger road with a quick twist of the steering wheel. Lisa grabbed onto the dash in front of her to keep from falling over, instantly switching the three speakers on again. One blasted a family-sung song complete with five-year-old dissonance and a crackling old female's voice. Vivian, surprised by the sudden noise, began to cry. Fat tears rolled down her fat baby cheeks as the family on the other end of the system launched into their third iteration of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Lisa gave Jackson a glare of death before unbuckling her seatbelt, switching off the singers, and climbing into the backseat. Jackson cursed lowly, eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror to check on the two of them. Lisa had buckled herself in beside her daughter and was trying desperately to shush her gently. Her eyes flashed to the reflection of his in the mirror.

"You don't know anything about caring for anyone, do you?"

"Obviously, I don't," he retorted, searching the road signs for somewhere to grab something for his daughter. He waited a long moment before asking in an almost timid voice, "Does she like french-fries?" He purposely avoided Lisa's probing stare from the mirror before returning to comforting Vivian.

"Only Wendy's," Lisa answered, tucking the girl's dark hair behind her ear. So much like her father. Just like her father.

"Right," Jackson said as he pulled onto an exit ramp labeled with the preferred fast food restaurant.

There was relative silence as Jackson ordered the food for all three of them-- a bacon-cheddar mushroom melt for Lisa, a spicy chicken for himself and a large fry just for Vivi-- and as he pulled out a twenty to cover the bill. Lisa took care of feeding Vivian while Jackson drove with one hand and ate with the other. Lisa knew that he was glancing back at them at ever-increasing intervals. Vivian cooed with delight every time she spied her father's eyes in the mirror, giggled every time she made him smile.

Lisa had fallen asleep beside her child, the wrapper from her much-enjoyed lunch discarded by her feet. Vivian held tight onto Lisa's finger, holding it on an equal level with the beloved giraffe as she slept. Jackson rubbed his eyes as the dusk crept across the sky and the street lamps began to switch on. He downed the remainder of his caffeinated drink with a smack of his lips. He looked to the illuminated green signs, searching for the one he needed. In one hand was the steering wheel, the other holding the atlas that Lisa had previously held. At last, his finger traced the route he had been looking for and, with a sidelong backward glance at his woman and his little girl.

The road became less and less occupied as the night seized the sky. Jackson pulled into a gas station to fill up the van and grab a large coffee. The only other occupants of the filling station were truckers and a sleeping family of five on a road trip. He leaned casually against the side of the van, sipping on the coffee with as much restraint as to the taste showing on his face as possible.

He recognized one of the truckers-- a man he had employed once, just as he had employed Lisa. This man happened to be shipping something a little more valuable than slabs of ribs in the back of his refrigerated truck that night. Jackson had made sure that the man's wife was secure back at their ranch-style house in Tallahassee, taken care of by his former associate Robbins. The trucker, James T. Booker if Jackson's memory was correct, had delivered the shipment of weapons to the drop-off point and returned home safely to his wife Darla, who was completely unharmed. He never saw Jackson again. _Until now_, Jackson thought as he grimaced at the taste of the cheap coffee in his mouth.

He watched his former pawn with interest. He had gained weight since the incident two years ago. His beard was fuller and less scraggly, but his head was missing more of the bright red hair that had stood on end every moment that Jackson sat beside him in that truck. The assassin wondered vaguely if the interior of James T. Booker's truck still smelled of greasy burgers and cheap booze. The man was walking about amicably, talking animatedly with the other trucker in the lot. He was waving his arms, perhaps relating an anecdote. And the haunting idea struck Jackson suddenly: what if Lisa would end up just like James T. Booker two years after _their_ incident? Would Lisa forget everything that had happened, forget him?

He looked through the tinted window of the stolen green minivan at the sleeping pair in the backseat. One with an unbreakable soul, determination that was only accented by her good looks and know-how. The other fragile, new in this world and untainted by all of the evil that Jackson had been exposed to. Yet both were so like him.

The gas had filled the tank. Jackson went inside to pay-- in cash again. He grabbed another cup of coffee, orange juice for Lisa upon her waking (she never went a morning without orange juice) and a small half-gallon of milk for Vivian. He turned from the cash register to the door, looking up from his purchases to meet James T. Booker straight in the eye. The man didn't recognize him immediately, but when Jackson's face had been given time to settle in his mind the man's splotchy face turned pale. Jackson pulled his lips back into a smile.

"Hello," Jackson said quietly. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

The trucker's eyes darted from Jackson to the cashier to Jackson's mundane purchases. Was this the man he thought he was?

"N-No," James T. Booker said with shifty eyes. "I think I'd remember a feller like you."

"Mm," Jackson said with a noncommittal attitude, "I've been wrong before. Have a nice night." He was almost past the man before he said in a low growl of a whisper: "Give my best to Darla, James."

The walk to the van was brisk, following the shouts of fright from the trucker inside the glass doors. Jackson was smiling smugly to himself. Without so much as a glance over his shoulder, Jackson started the car and drove off.

It was nearly dawn before Jackson thought it was a good time to switch vehicles again. He pulled over on the shoulder of the small highway, flicking on the hazard lights. He considered many different ways of letting Lisa know that her naptime was up. He drummed his fingers on the armrest in thought then unbuckled himself. The tall man knelt beside the backseat where Lisa was sprawled alongside her daughter's car seat. Jackson brushed aside the limp brown curls from her face and placed a kiss on her brow. Lisa's eyes opened slowly, staring concernedly into the familiar ice of his eyes.

"Jackson," her voice creaked.

"Lisa," he answered, handing her the small jug of orange juice with a cocked smile. She pulled herself into a sitting position, taking the offering gently in her hands. He smiled up at her from his position on the floor, and she stared complacently at him-- almost questioningly. He pulled out a baby bottle with fresh milk sloshing inside. "This is for Vivi when she wakes up." Lisa took it as well, setting it beside the car seat with a small smile. "What?" Jackson asked at the change in demeanor.

"You," she said honestly. "I don't understand you." Her hand was on his cheek.

"I don't think anyone ever has," he said with only a hint of sadness. "So if you figure me out someday, tell me so I can mark it in my calendar."

He fell quiet against the feel of Lisa's fingers through his hair. He had never told her how much it calmed him, how he could forget everything just because of her touch. This time, she was the one that initiated the kiss, soft and passionate, close and longing. Caught by surprise, Jackson felt that all he could do was allow Lisa press into him.

"Because I gave you orange juice?" He asked, taking his chance when Lisa pulled back to take a breath. She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, not realizing that she had ended up practically straddling him on the floor of the back seat.

"Yes, Jackson, because you gave me orange juice," she said sarcastically against her breath. Jackson was suddenly in control, he pressing her back, his knees pinning her down.

"I should remember that," he said as he took a short kiss from her, lingering near her, breath mingling. Vivian stirred above them. Jackson gave a low sigh, closing his eyes as he seized Lisa's lips again, longer this time. "Just when the party was about to get started." He heaved himself off of her and sat beside the waking child in the car seat. Lisa remained on the floor for only a moment before opening the side door of the van and levering her feet out.

"Why are we stopped?" She asked, looking out at the nearly empty stretch of rural two-lane highway. She looked back to find Jackson holding the milk-filled bottle for Vivian, her own chubby hands trying to hold it on her own. Lisa smiled as Jackson practically beamed down at the little girl. He glanced up minutely.

"We need to change vehicles again," he said simply. "I might have met someone I know while I was filling the gas tank." Lisa looked up sharply. "Don't worry," he added quickly. "No one dangerous. An old target. Unless he's grown a backbone I don't know about, he won't act on it. But, just in case..." He trailed off, staring down at Vivian. Lisa shook her head while watching him.

"Howdo you do it?" She asked. Jackson eyed her strangely.

"I shell out 89 cents for a half-gallon of milk, screw open the top of the bottle--"

"No," she interrupted him, "I mean that look you give her. You get fired and suddenly you don't care about anything else but her." She looked to his eyes to see that they were locked seriously on hers. Like he wanted so badly to say something, but the words lodged in his throat and wouldn't come through.

The sound of a car slowing on the stretch of road interrupted the intense silence, and Jackson's head shot up. He indicated for Lisa to take his place feeding Vivian. She did, and he exited the van with a practiced leap. He mussed up his hair purposely, waving one arm in the air to grab the attention of the already slowing driver. It was a small silver sedan, but luckily a four-seater, Jackson noticed. He put on his best helpless smile.

A single woman climbed out of the car, looking official and business-like. She adjusted her glasses as she looked from Jackson to the minivan to the image of Lisa feeding Vivian through the tinted glass.

"Is everything all right?" The woman asked. Jackson rolled up his shirtsleeves and made a long, sad sigh.

"I think something busted," he said, putting on a slight rural accent. Lisa bit her lip. It didn't suit him at all. "Me, my wife and my little girl have been waiting all day for someone to come along and help us out."

"Oh, you poor things," the woman said, looking again through the smoky glass for a glimpse at Lisa and Vivian. Lisa gave a half-hearted wave.

"I'm not much of a mechanic," Jackson lied. "I was hoping that someone might give us a ride into town for a tow-truck." The woman bit her lower lip. It was obvious she wasn't used to carting around strangers in her car, no matter how good-looking the stranger was.

"Well," she began, beginning to fidget. "I don't suppose it's too far to the next town."

"Great!" Jackson exclaimed, jogging back to the open side door of the van. He leaned close to Lisa. "When we get into the car--"

"Jackson," Lisa hushed him quickly. "We don't have to kill her, or steal her car or any of that." He gave her a strange look. "We can use one of the cars at the mechanic's place."

He gave her a long stare.

"Well, sure, do things the easy way."

* * *

It didn't take long to get into town, just as the woman had suggested. Jackson looked rather miffed about not getting to steal the silver sedan. It still had the whiff of new-car-smell to it. He really would have liked to have stolen the car. The woman dropped them off at the mechanic's garage, where they proceeded to inform the tow-truck men where the green minivan was and as to whether they could rent one of their old cars. Of course. They were given an old '91 Buick, blocky and gray but still in perfect working order.

By the time the tow-truck returned with the van, the couple with the cute baby had disappeared with the car. No one in town could remember seeing them or the car.

Jackson was driving again, having to adjust the seat back to accommodate his long legs. Lisa sat in the back to entertain and feed Vivian. Lisa didn't know their destination until it was too late to turn back.

"We're here," Jackson announced, pulling into the parking garage. Lisa looked up, confused. When had they been in a parking garage? Jackson threw the gray Buick into park and opened the door for Lisa to exit. She pulled Vivian with her, looking to Jackson for answers.

She knew as soon as she heard that familiar, heart-stopping sound.

Jet engines.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Jackson turned, ceasing his long strides.

"What?" He asked. Lisa turned wide, wet eyes on him.

"No," she said simply.

She closed her eyes, and she was back on the red eye. She was sitting beside Jackson, that smiling face turned to a demon's carapace in a fraction of an instant. Those frightening, chilling blue eyes fixed heavily on hers. Kill Keefe or kill her dad. The sadistic choice. The sadistic stare of the assassin sitting beside her on the commercial Fresh Air flight. She shivered, hugging Vivian close to her.

"Leese," he called, an edge in the otherwise gentle voice.

"No," she said again. "I'm--" She broke, tears flooding her face. "I'm not ready. Not yet." She sobbed silently into her daughter's shoulder. "Not yet, Jackson."

He had seized her before she could turn away. His hands held her arms just above the elbows, firm but not harsh. He stared her down, pressing but not menacing.

"You got over the fact I tried to kill you, Leese. Why can't you sit next to me on a plane?" She averted her eyes, and he took her chin in his hand to direct her eyes back to his. "This is the safest place I could think of for us. Vore said that if I can keep you hidden for three days, that's it. He won't be after you anymore. It's one day down, Lisa, and if I can keep you safe for just two more days--" He broke off, this time he being forced to look away. He gathered his nerves and faced her again. "If I can keep you somewhere for two more days, you won't have to worry anymore."

Lisa searched his face, finding more and more humanity every time she did.

"What about you?" She asked softly. "You don't have the three-day rule on your head do you?" He looked away again.

"That doesn't--"

She forced him to look at her, one hand cupping his chin.

"It matters to me," she said plainly, the tears gone.

"Vore made it pretty clear that I'm going to end up dead either way," Jackson said quickly, heavily. Lisa bit her lip, fighting back anything and everything inside of her that wanted to burst forward. Instead, she simply leaned forward into Jackson and rested her head softly on his chest.

She followed him into the airport terminal. He was carrying Vivian, the giraffe cradled in her arms like she was in his. Lisa's arm was hooked with his free arm, both of them oddly silent. Jackson bought tickets for all of them to an airport unfamiliar with Lisa. They were booked under the names Allen and Olivia Donovan-- "One of my many alias," he would tell her later. First class. Only the best.

Lisa watched all of the normal people that milled about them as they waited at their assigned gate. Children playing videogames, adults with cell phones not looking where they were trod. Suitcases were being pulled on wheels behind many travelers. It had taken Lisa this long to realize that neither of them had any luggage. One less thing to worry about. A soft feminine voice came over the loud speakers.

"Flight 112 to Cincinnati now boarding in Gate 24."

"That's us," Jackson prompted.

He handed Vivian to Lisa, who cried for a short time afterwards. A young boy was kind enough to give Lisa the rest of his sandwich to feed to her child. Jackson handed the stewardess their boarding passes. Lisa took one long last look at the only home she knew before grabbing Jackson's hand with her own and stepping across the border and onto the plane.

* * *

AN: Ahh! This is like the longest chapter ever! Weird. I never write long chapters. And it's not even that long. I'm really pleasedwith the way this one turned out. I love messing with Jackson, making him evil, then making him sweet, then making him confuzzled... Very very fun. Thanks everyone for reviewing! Someone loves me! Huzzah! Please, everyone, feel free to say you don't like something if it needs fixing, because I will go back and change it just for you. SHOUT OUTS!

**DiscordMarie:** Sowwee aboot not making them go to Disney World. I've only been there once and that was when I was seven, so I wouldn't be able to write it too well. It would make a good story, but I've got a little something of my own planned for these kiddos. I hope what I have in store isn't disappointing. Have a happy Thanksgiving-- have an e-turkey!

**steph88NYC:** I'm glad the action is action-y enough for you. Not so much action in this chappie, but what can ya do? I saw Harry Potter at midnight between Thurs and Fri... So excellent! You gotta see it as soon as you can! You are sooo lucky to even SEE Rupert and Emma and whatnot! I would give my left ear to see Rupert! He's just so cute! You are lucky lucky lucky. I went to the premiere with a handmade signs saying "Support Cedric Diggory." Fun stuff. I hope you love the movie and enjoy the e-turkey!

**DaiKatana:** OMG Harry Potter was awesome! Go see! Oh yeah, shout-out... AHEM! I loved writing that monologue for Jackson. He has something of another monologue here, but I really enjoyed that line you quoted as well. I think that's Jackson, pure and all that good stuff. I dunno. I don't wanna sound like I'm praising myself... Thanks so much for the review and I hope you enjoy your e-turkey!

**SpadesJade:** One of the best? Really? Sweet! It's the orange lady. That's gotta be it. Old lady selling oranges and hitting on Jackson. Oh yeah. I personally really like this chapter a lot more than the last one, which felt rushed to me. Oh well, what can ya do? Thanks much for the review, friend, and here's an e-turkey for e-Thanksgiving!

As for everyone else... Thanks so much! I love all the reviews and reviewers! They all touch my heart. Sorry I can't shout-out to everyone. I love all of you! I hope this chappy makes the grade, and I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving break! Happy reading!


End file.
